Noticed
by Pretenders
Summary: She only wishes their love could be repaired. But as she dives into a painful darkness and the aching of a failing love, she is noticed by a man who will come to show her a whole new happiness. Ike and Peach. Purely AU. Partially scanned and read twice.


_**Thank-you for noticing this story.**_

_**This is purely AU. More Ike and Peach stories will come and this is the first and only AU.**_

_**This story is inspired by, "Tell Me Why" by Declan Galbraith.**__**  
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_**Italics is present. Normal font is past.**_

_**Partially scanned and read twice. Redefined as of 09/08/14. Edited and expanded as of 25/08/14.**_

* * *

**Noticed**

"_The first time he stared,_"

Plans to wake up that morning weren't ever made. Just the night before, I decided to never wake up. My hysterical sobs reminded me every second what had happened between I and the love of my life. His duty called, and of course, it had been the last of what I could take knowing he wouldn't return till the next morning. He had forgotten about our anniversary yet another year. I couldn't just blurt out the significance of the day, so I kept to myself, breaking out into agonizing tears when I knew he had left. He was an important hero, but even with that title, I only asked for one night alone between us. Had it been too much? I had never begged of him to stay. Not once.

Distance began to spread us a part. Every day felt like I was slowly slipping out of the arms I used to fall into. He no longer hugged me, not as much as he used to. So little now that when I woke up that morning, I found that I was warm without him there. I forced myself to dress up to stock up on our empty fridge. As I fastened the tie of my coat, I realized it would soon be either _my_ fridge or _his_ fridge. It was only a matter of time when the distance was finally too much to bare. I left our home, and perhaps, I would be leaving it for good in the near future.

Since it was early morning, I was free to roam the isles without any problems with fellow shoppers. I used to love heading to the grocery store to pass by expecting mothers or experienced mothers. They had wonderful children while some needed extra work. I was never bothered by the bratty ones, because for some reason, they only added more to the excitement that I'd find myself dealing with a child of my own. I certainly wouldn't see it as a tedious job. But as we had begun to grow a part, visions of children faded quicker than ever. That's when I came to the reality that all those mothers were overworked, tired, and _single_.

Why hadn't I seen it before? I used to feel envious of what I thought were content mothers. I now felt lucky to be a lonely housewife. I used to be a princess, one from a gorgeous kingdom. But I chose to leave all of my riches behind for Mario. Through my thoughts, I had been dumping boxes of microwave meals into my grocery basket. I only realized the amount after the weight on my arm increased. Microwave meals were for those alone, inexperienced cooks. I, for one, was a natural cook. Natural at a variety of hobbies and sports. And I was also not alone, not in the present time.

I neatly placed my items on the conveyer belt. The cashier was a young man, not a day older than twenty. I smiled at him, reminiscent of those young days I once lived through. I was well into my thirties with the soul of a withering old woman. My heart felt heavy and my limbs felt weak. It was the affect of a heart that knew it would soon be broken. I wanted to do all I could to save the love—any love that was left. But my arms knew they would be trying all they could to wrap around a man who would be too far to reach.

The cashier brought me back to reality when he repeated the price I owed. I quickly dug into my purse to hand over the wrinkled cash. He continued to smile when I reached for my items on the other side. I didn't ignore the bagger on purpose. No, I was completely oblivious to his existence. He had to shout to catch my attention as I was already past the automatic doors. He was obviously desperate for any loose change if he felt the need to pursue me just for a couple of coins. I generously gave him whatever was left in my purse. Because of the amount, I had to look him in the eyes to ensure that I meant to give him every last penny.

"_Was because he appreciated who I was, but that would have nothing to do with the second time he stared,_"

Mario and I were the farthest a part we had ever been. I began to believe I saw so little of him because he was spending the nights at Luigi's home. Did this bother me? Yes. Did I say anything to him when he chose to sleep in our home? No, because he slept on the couch. He deliberately left me to sleep on a bed too big for just one person. I may have welcomed the change but I hadn't slept for one minute during those nights. I could hear him stumble to the fridge to eat something at such late times. When we first settled in together, he had no guilt waking me up at unforgiving hours to ask for a meal.

Those nights, the nights I couldn't deny him of anything, were the nights our love was unforgettably surreal. I used to feel incredible cooking for him. He was, then, the man of my dreams, life, and prayers. He was my savior and my guardian. I used to believe he was sent personally from God. Every time I heard him bang his fist upon the counter top before dialing for take out, I knew God no longer viewed me as a special woman to live her life in a hopeless, romantic daze of an endless dream. Mario was no longer the man I would do anything for.

That wasn't because I no longer loved him. I truly still felt the connection, but it was wilting and tearing. The least of my feelings were only asking for attention. Simple touches, caresses, or even glances. He never gave me any of those anymore. I couldn't sleep in a bed too large and too warm for me, it was too sudden. I needed to leave the home when I knew he was inside. I found that the serene park that was often lonely was the perfect place to sulk. I spent hours just walking around the borders, dipping my finger into the lake whenever I wanted to avoid seeing my stained reflection.

I was comfortable here in the quaint nature. The environment enveloped me into sympathetic breezes, sometimes freezing my tears. I cried freely every morning and night I arrived. I knew I was alone when I came to the park in the moonlight. It was deserted most of the time. Except for the one night Mario and I realized that yelling at each other was easier than it ever seemed. We went back and forth, pointing out all of our flaws that were too little for anyone to notice. To me, he was undeserving of such a love I harbored. To him, I grew rotten, unresponsive, and bored of his commitment.

All of what he claimed of my feelings were twisted. He, out of everyone else, should have known that I was far from rotten. I was growing a part—we both were. I was still willing to respond to his every need and want—if he ever bothered to ask. And boredom was mistaken for loneliness. He left me lonely in our house, in our bed, in our kitchen, and in my life. I had left in the middle of our shouts to find solace in the park that comforted me with chills.

The wooden, creaking bench sank beneath me. My wool coat caught the tears falling from the end of my chin. My nose, cold and red, itched with every sob. I could have wiped the disgusting snot with my sleeve, for I cared less how dirty I got after how broken I had become, had a known hand not offer me a pearl, white napkin. I didn't look up to register the face, I couldn't when I was in the worst state I was ever in. But his voice, a voice that once thanked me for every last penny, told me to take the offered napkin. I may have thanked him over and over gain after I snatched it too eagerly. Even more so after I realized my night was ending with laughter rather than my beginning sobs.

"_For he was only making sure I would stop crying. And although I didn't suspect that it may have been an excuse, the third time wouldn't go unnoticed,_"

Our insulting shouts went unattended to the next morning. We both may have purposely ignored the events of that night, but I was aware of the reason why I hadn't sought to apologize. Last night had given me the chance to feel anything other than isolation as the new morning came. For when the morning came, I knew I woke up feeling _better _than I had in a long time. What made that feeling extend was the fact that Mario hadn't done a thing to make it happen.

In the past, he was the only man who could put a smile on my face when it was pained with frowns. He served as my lighted candle, leading me down the darkest paths of my life. His light had now burnt out and left me to find my way in the darkness. I searched blindly for days until I came across someone who I had found in the unlit path. And even in the darkness, even when he was an absolute stranger, he managed to make me _smile_.

I had laughed a genuine laugh. It was a reaction I hadn't shown in so long, that the vibration in my lungs hurt. Yet it felt entirely desired. An ignored part of me wanted to laugh and wanted to smile, but most importantly, no longer wanted to be lonesome. That part of me may have been ignored for the rest of my crippling relationship had he not crossed my path with an offering. His simple, handy napkin made my laughter and smile possible.

Reality's happiness was short lived when a sudden thought came to me: if he hadn't been carrying a napkin, would I still have smiled that night? He was amusing, his jokes were enjoyable. That's what made me laugh. Any joke could get a giggle out of me, but just anyone getting a smile from my features is when the challenge becomes known. Especially during this time of my life. Laughing for me was inevitable. This man managed to bring out the _impossible_.

And he would do it again. Mario was absent from our home since the morning; I also didn't intend to stay in this gloomful home. My days of weeping and moping in the same halls within the same walls was coming to an end. I could have gone to the grocery store without a reason to, but I chose to check the shelves of the fridge just to make it easier to hide my giddiness. I was surely only planning to go to the grocery store so that I could accidentally, preferably _unintentionally_, meet a now familiar face.

An intentional encounter followed promisingly. I also made to it that I carry a basket and browse two isles before I _unintentionally_ chose to check out in a certain bagger's lane. We met eyes for a moment that ended all too soon. During the entire time I was placing my items on the conveyer belt, I felt uneasy, timid shivers running up my legs. When the time came to pay and I made to grab my bags, I had caught the reason to my shivers.

He looked at me with a sly smile, one that lifted in one corner. He was smirking at me and I realized I had been flushed the entire time. He told me not to be embarrassed, reassuring that he didn't mean to startle me. Almost immediately, he invited me to lunch. I hesitated at first, lost in finding an answer. The invitation was an alien concept to me. Going out to eat with anyone hadn't occurred since I left my kingdom—since Mario made more time for his duties. I ate alone every morning, evening, and night.

He quickly elaborated on the time and place as I struggled to respond. Before I could kindly decline his invite by giving him the money to buy a meal, he interrupted by telling me he had enough for two. Mario's figure, bent on one knee, entered my memory. A single ring, the most gorgeous I had ever seen, lost its sparkle. This bagger was the first man to ask me of anything since. Mario had been the only man I ever spent an evening with, and I promised myself I'd never agree to anyone else. But as I felt my flush face carry on the heat to every part of my being, I knew I was far beyond embarrassed when I tucked my money back into my wallet and said _I'd love to_.

We sat at a comfortable booth. The seat was a fluffy new cushion, one that hugged my bosom more than it should have. Nothing about the venue was extravagant. For a bagger, enough money for a two person meal was enough money to dine at a drive in diner. The place was decorated with old time record players and retro portraits. The simplicity was warming, though the menu contained such a wide selection. I felt overwhelmed at the variety, unsure of what to order.

His finger entered my view, pointing at a particular item. All the while he was staring at my fidgeting hands. He then thought it amusing that I was careful of my figure. Suggesting a full rack of ribs was divine, but the appetizing sound of ribs couldn't get the best of me. I needed to go for something lighter, something with a less mouth watering, messy sauce. My slim body would become a balloon if I ordered what he wanted me to.

He threw in meaningless encouragement such as, "_You're fine_", "_What are you insecure about_?", and other unworthy inputs. I gave no replies to all of them although I knew my answers to each one. I wasn't about to tell him why I wasn't fine or why I was insecure. I didn't want to have to use up all the neatly placed napkins because of my sensitivity. His smile began to lessen when I became too quiet. I stirred out of my mind when his startling touch came upon my hand.

His touch was the cure to the plague of thoughts in my mind. It was comforting, and it left me _warm_. I had grown so accustomed to the warmness of solitude in my cold bed that when I realized it only intensified by his touch, I silently begged for him to never let go. Quiet questionably, I was the one to retreat. He kept his smile through my stuttering, sudden shyness. His eyes never left my direction, and when I gained control of my senses, I noticed the waitress had departed from our table after tucking in her notepad. I didn't need to ask him what he ordered for me because his smile returned to his face in a devilish way.

"_If I had known he had a powerful stare, I may have avoided his every gaze. But if I did just that, I wouldn't have been aware of how captivating his smile would become,"_

He was like no other. Comical, indifferent in ambitions, yet he was extraordinary. I shouldn't have spent more than two lunch outings with him. More so knowing that I had been confronted by Mario the day before. Mario was accompanied by his lawyer, a prestigious man who was dedicated to filing his most recent case involving Mario: a divorce case. I could have fallen to my knees, cried into the grooves of my palms, or even given Mario a tinge of satisfaction showing him a heartache he expected me to feel.

But I did none of that. I chose to remain calm, aware of what was to come, and prepared to approach the termination of a marriage I once called a dream come true. I opted to provide my consent, my agreement, at that exact moment. Mario kept silent, fixed onto the tile squares of the floor rather than the review of the steps to resolve this case discussed after I signed without second thoughts.

I knew he refused to look at me not out of guilt, but to shut out the discussion happening in order to concentrate on his thoughts. I appeared too avid, and if that made him wonder just what emotions were causing me to seem so comfortable and complying in such a case, then I hoped he would soon realize that I was nearing the end of the cliff to the love I held for him. Once I stepped over that cliff, his existence would die along with whatever was left of my want.

And I was coming dangerously close to the edge. I was still so hesitant, still in denial that those cherished feelings were sinking into the acids of my being. If only he knew how willing I was—even when I knew he wished to separate—to repair the damage that had broken most of my soul, he would prove to me he still loved me enough to try to recuperate. There was no motivation from his love for me to want to try once more.

After my consent, I lifted off the seat and took my first steps away from Mario to near the cliff. His lawyer bid me his luck, pity, and farewell. We would see each other soon. When we do, I promised silently to myself, I wouldn't be as hysterical as I was in the moments following the ordeal. I came back to a home, not my home, not our home, but _a _home surrounded with unwanted memories of a first kiss, first night, first love, and first argument that would kill the passion that was once all I knew.

In that bed in that home, a bed that once embraced two tightly intertwined bodies, was colder than ever. I couldn't smile through the sting of my sadness or the pull of my lips. Not even the bagger, a man I wanted to get out of my head, his name I wanted to rip away from my tongue, could make the impossible occur on this day. Yet every minute that passed with the iced comfort of the mattress, his smile managed to warm me from head to toe, to heart and soul.

"_Because it would be the remedy that would ease my heart ache, and possibly_...,"

There might have been a small voice telling me to turn around from the automatic doors that I stood in front of. I heard it as a soft whisper driving to the supermarket, only raising once I came too close to return home. The camera sensed my figure within in the sensor, opening and closing repeatedly. Few customers walked out letting me know just how ridiculously early I came to the supermarket with only my hopes to assure me he was inside, bagging the groceries for those who walked out to pass me with a greeting nod and smile. I did neither in return and many regarded my lack of acknowledgment as impolite.

However, I wasn't here to smile; I wasn't here to greet anyone. I was here to seek for the only friend I had in this crumbling life that was mine. I only knew love, friendship, comfort from one man, who now wanted to share nothing with me. I needed someone and I was desperate enough to come to the only place I knew would provide everything I was lacking in my bruising heart. My hopes shunned the screaming voice demanding I accept the fate my marriage was falling into by returning home to get through the pain alone, for that's what I would be in the near, too soon future.

I would be alone. By myself when I sleep, when I wake, when I dine, and when I reminisce. And the very thought of what I would become by being alone pulled me into a sprint to pass the automatic doors, to pant as I looked to both sides to find the man who wasn't supposed to be this precious to me, before I ran to him to cling to his very warmth that was the only warmth I may ever feel. I could feel him move the best he could in my tightening embrace, my arms around his shoulders, my wet lashes leaving stains on his neck. Once I felt his arms around me, his warmth touching every limb, I didn't want to remove myself and this time I wouldn't. I couldn't.

But he gently nudged me to separate slightly. When I did, my arms limp and my hands resting on his shoulders, he looked into my eyes deeper than Mario ever did. He may have been asking what troubled me, may have begged me to stop crying, or maybe, as he caressed the tears away, promising me not to be afraid to run to him whenever I needed to. It may have been all the above, for when he pulled me back into his arms, I couldn't ignore the perfection that I felt in my heart.

"_He was the man I was destined to truly fall in love with. There had to have been a sudden mistake in fate, for I would have never invited a feeling so defining for another man the way I welcomed my feelings for this unexpected person,_"_  
_

_A gentle woman drank her coffee across from me, listening closely to the story I should have been finished sharing by now. There was so little that become reality between us. Our happy ending was cut shortly too soon. I knew, by the look on her features, that she was weary of the truth behind my story. But she also asked, with her gesturing hands, where the bagger who took all that was left of my heart resided presently. Because in this present, he did not leave any evidence that he ever entered my home. In fact, as I began to remember the little moments we shared, he never once had the chance to meet the girl who I safely knew as my friend. She hadn't even known him as my significant other, just as a close friend._

Zelda, a brunette, dazzling elf was the first friend I made after the accident. She was also in the clinic awaiting for the healing of her husband. We met in early mornings to comfort each other as we could only pray that our loved one was going to survive. I couldn't recall why her husband was in critical condition, but I knew he was alive and well. She received the wonderful news the day I came with flowers, hoping the day would be the day I was allowed to visit him in his room. The nurses refused to allow me entrance, and as they turned their attention to present Zelda with the grand news, I offered her my happiness and flowers.

She hid her great happiness from me, knowing I was still unsure of whether or not I would feel the same. To know that he would be stabilized was enough to put me in the same happiness as Zelda. But as the days passed, and her husband was released from care, I began to stride away from the light that illuminated my life. I was a divorced woman, now a woman expecting a child without being married once more. I focused much of my time on shopping infant aisles, and I knew it wasn't due to the fact I was impatient. It was solemnly because I didn't want the worse, or the doubt to grow in my mind.

I only traveled to the hospital and the court. Mario was facing criminal charges for his actions taken on that murderous night. It was the morning that followed a perfect morning of a new found perfect life. Ike, the name could never leave my lips now, had just departed to his new job. This job didn't depend on tips to make a living. He was now hopeful of mastering his physical strength. He wanted to make a profession of his fitness. Mario was shunned at this time for leaving a "princess with a great heart and honest love." Our divorce appeared in every tabloid.

This may have fueled Mario's regret, motivating him to repair the damage he caused to his image. He must have come to my home when Ike was over, possibly when we were freely expressing our emotions for one another in embraces and quick kisses outdoors, as I had finally taken the time to garden, something I loved to do. And once he saw us, he must have become enraged with jealousy and regret. I received a phone call one day that was a number that seemed familiar but I couldn't quite remember it clearly. It happened to be Ike's work place.

They let me know he hadn't showed. I told them he definitely left, in fact, he left early to have more time to prepare for his match. They were sure that he was nowhere to be found in the facility. They needed Ike to show, tonight was their greatest night. Ike's skill was noticed by the entire town and he garnered many fans who placed all their cash on his victory tonight. I assured them I would contact him, and they hung up with a cautious farewell. I immediately dialed his cell, expecting an answer.

By the fifth dial, I was now away from the kitchen and in my own tears. Fear began to build within me and I didn't care that I had my apron on as I rushed to the police station. The road I took would lead me straight to a large crowd in the middle of the street. It was large enough to let someone believe there was an event happening that involved every folk in the town. I braked fiercely, exiting the vehicle to beg that they move to allow me through. I heard women crying to others to call an ambulance, other women screamed that someone help the man. The building fear now took control of my body and instinctively, I pushed my way through the crowd knowing that somehow, I knew who I would see.

I held him dearly to me, waiting for the ambulance to arrive. I cried hysterically, begging in shouts for him to stay with me. He was beaten terribly, but I knew whoever managed such damage wouldn't have escaped untouched. The last touch we ever shared with the touch of his hand rising with the last energy he had to caress my tears aside. The amount of pain, the heaviness in my heart, was far too much for me to handle. When I witnessed his eyes begin to fall close, I couldn't hold myself from shaking him to bring him back to me. I was in dire need to see him awake, but as I felt his heart beneath me slow dangerously, I begged in such a way I never had before for him to stay.

I knew who committed the crime. I knew exactly who would seek to accomplish something so cruel. And once Ike was driven to the Emergency Room, I made to it that I speed to Mario's home. I didn't bother to knock, busting down the door in my agony. He was knelt before me, bloodied and surprised at my presence. His surprise disgusted me enough to bring me to become abusive, shouting how deeply I resented his very being. If it hadn't been for the close proximity of his neighbors, I may have been the one to murder Mario. The police rushed into the home to forcefully pry me off Mario's barely breathing body.

We were both facing the law. Mario was suspected of the brutal beating of Ike, and I was released under the belief I was acting out of self defense. I vomited for days, felt terribly broken for weeks to follow. It wasn't until I met Zelda during this entire ordeal that she insisted I take a pregnancy test. I wasn't shocked at the results and I wasn't regretful of them either. I accepted that the situation I was in could end in two ways: I could have the family I always dreamed of, or I could see myself shopping alone in the aisles with my child. Either way did nothing to ensure they were true, and for that uncertainty, I became strangely hopeful.

I appeared in court a month later. It didn't matter to me what I had said on the stand, for I knew I must have said the worst I ever could to and about Mario. To my shock, he said nothing, uttered nothing of the assault I dealt him. He whispered no such thing of my intentions to destroy him, and instead, he implied that indeed I acted brutally out of self defense. My mind ran a thousand reasons as to why he would protect me. Could he have possibly realized how much pain he caused me and now, after seeing how truly healed and happy I was with Ike, wanted nothing more than to allow me to live freely in happiness? I wouldn't ask him why. The last time I saw Mario, he was taken away from the court, and I was driving back to the clinic to pray that I could see Ike.

It wouldn't be that day. No day following that court day would be the day I would be able to visit Ike. When I arrived, many nurses comforted me in a group, ushering me to sit down before they conversed with me. I reassured them that I was fine to stand, assuming they believed I may have been under the weather due to the result of the court with my ex-husband. But no, they just knew how I would react to the devastating news I was about to hear.

_Zelda's voice cut through my memory, "Darling, are you alright? You're crying,"_

_I quickly looked up to her, bringing my hands against my cheek. I smiled after I wiped my skin dry, aware that they were still wet from the many tears I was able to shed just by one memory. She smiled softly back at me, putting her cup down when she heard crying sounds once more. I gave a quick giggle, stuttering as I promised her I'd return shortly._

_I walked up the stairs with little strength. The crying grew closer and as a mother, I pushed away the sadness that enveloped me as I worried for my infant. At the sight of his blue crib, I looked over the bars to face the entirety of my life. His blonde hair reminded me of the grace and vibrancy of my own locks. He knew her mother was with her, as once he set his eyes on me, he began to smile._

_He never looked away from me. Even when I had to force myself to look anywhere else. His orbs haunted me, and I wish that he would pay attention to the toy I shook in front of him. No, he refused to look at the moving toy. He refused to look anywhere but at his me, his loving mother. I dipped my hands in his crib to bring him into my arms. _

_As he stared deeply into my eyes, I wondered if staring was a part of curiosity, or if he inherited such a habit from his father. He began to stare at me crookedly and worriedly once I began to resuscitate my tears. I dropped to my knees, praying that my own son would stop reminding me of what I had lost. It was then that I felt the intensity and whispers of his stare._

_I looked at him, his newborn face blurry to my vision. His stare was the same stare his father first gave to me. His mother may have been in the worst part of her life, but with every passing day that I forced a laugh and a smile for my son, I knew that with this stare, he appreciated who I was for the sake of his own happiness. And for the first time in a long time, I gave a genuine smile. Once I was certain I was still in a life illuminated and away from the darkness, I called for Zelda to come meet my son for the first time._


End file.
